


"you showed me colors you know I can't see with anyone else"

by SapphicScholar



Series: Supercat & General Danvers Week 2020 [3]
Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Hopeful Ending, F/F, Post-breakup, Smut, Supercat Week, Years Later, day 4: distance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2020-10-14
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:01:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27007030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SapphicScholar/pseuds/SapphicScholar
Summary: "Kara patrolled in sweeping loops of the city, flying low over the harbor and letting her fingertips skim through water that no longer smelled strongly of oil. She floated up to the top of the CatCo building, perching for a few minutes on the ledge of the balcony that was technically no longer Cat’s and trying not to dwell on all the times she’d come here seeking solace. Because she was apparently a masochist, she even drifted towards the penthouse, letting herself be lulled by the once-familiar sound of Cat’s heartbeat. It wasn’t slow enough for Cat to be sleeping. Kara wondered if she was still editing page proofs, or maybe watching TV, or just sitting awake in bed like she had on too many nights when sleep wouldn’t come."Or the angsty 2-years-later post-breakup fic that I can at least promise has a hopeful (and smutty) ending!
Relationships: Kara Danvers/Cat Grant
Series: Supercat & General Danvers Week 2020 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1966618
Comments: 12
Kudos: 149
Collections: General Danvers & Supercat Week 5





	"you showed me colors you know I can't see with anyone else"

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Tragically, we have gone serious. Anyway buckle up for some angst with a happy/hopeful/smutty ending as we reconceive of distance in a metaphorical, emotional distance kind of way
> 
> Title from Taylor Swift's "illicit affairs," though there are no actual affairs in case that's a concern

Kara carefully pushed back from the table, letting herself relax a little into the back of the seat. “This was nice.”

Cat paused with her wineglass halfway to her mouth and seemed to consider Kara’s words. After a moment, she gave a slight nod of her head. “It was, wasn’t it?”

“I’m glad we can, you know…” Kara shrugged, trailing off as her gaze tracked the grain pattern in the wooden table. It was new. Much more rustic looking than the any of décor had been back when she’d lived there.

“Not kill each other?”

Kara’s heart fluttered at the sight of the sardonic little smile tugging up the corners of Cat’s mouth. “I was thinking get along, but I suppose the night’s still young.”

Cat hummed as she took a sip of wine.

“The table’s new.”

“Yes.” Cat pursed her lips as she looked down at it. “A…gift.”

“Clearly from someone who knew your tastes.”

“Well, he thought he did.”

“He still around?” Cat shook her head. “I guess he really did misjudge your tastes then.”

Cat drummed her fingers against the wood. “It weighs about a thousand pounds.”

It wasn’t quite an explanation, but it was as close as Kara thought she’d get as to why it was still there. Why it was still there when the latest suitor was not. Why it was still there when all the little traces of Kara’s presence had been swept away—shoved into closets and drawers or donated to Goodwill or thrown away.

“What?” Cat asked.

Kara blinked twice. “Hmm?”

“That crinkle between your eyes. What’s wrong?”

“Just…thinking. That’s all.”

“About?”

“Nothing important.”

The lie sat heavily between them. It was a testament to how much things had changed that Cat didn’t push, knew she didn’t have the right to demand honesty and answers anymore.

Kara forced herself to shake the lingering tension from her shoulders. “How’s Carter settling in?”

“He loves it. I’d…a part of me thought maybe he might be homesick, might still be the 4-year-old clinging to my legs and crying and begging me not to leave him.” She shook her head. “It’s good. Better this way, of course.”

Kara nudged Cat’s foot with one of her own. “That’s all you. Besides, he knows you’d be there on the CatCo jet within the hour if he ever really needed anything.”

“Yes, well…”

“I should probably get going. Early morning and all that.”

Cat nodded as she pushed herself up from her chair. “It is getting late.”

“Though I’m sure you’ll still be up editing layouts for the next few hours, right?”

“Sleep is for the weak.”

“I—” Kara cut herself off. There were no good ways to end that sentence. _I remember you saying something different all those nights the DEO would drag me out of bed at 3am. I don’t recall that being the case all those sleepy Sunday mornings._ _I wish I was still here to help make sure you were taking care of yourself._ “I suppose that’s why you’re getting the fancy award next month, huh?”

Cat tossed her hair over shoulder with a haughty little huff. It had gotten a little longer, skimming the tops of her shoulders these days. “That and the complete lack of competition.”

“Still. You deserved it.”

Cat turned to gather the few remaining dishes, though Kara swore she saw a faint pink blush coloring her cheeks before her face dipped out of view.

“Do you need help with those?”

“I’m fine, Kara. I do it myself every night.”

Kara swallowed heavily at the bite to Cat’s words. Tried not to remember night after night of catching a glimpse of a pleased-looking Cat sinking back into her seat as Kara kissed her and had the dishes cleared in a flash of superspeed. Tried not to think about what Cat’s dishes must look like these days. A single plate and wineglass. Maybe a small dish for dessert after particularly stressful days.

By the time Cat got back, Kara had schooled her face into a look of studied nonchalance. “I guess you probably won’t be at the fittings tomorrow morning, hmm?”

“No.” She shuddered. “I’d rather die than let Witt or Jimmy choose my attire.”

Kara let out a quiet chuckle. “Somehow I doubt they’d guess your preferred color palettes.”

“Very few people do.”

Kara wondered if anyone else had entered into that select category over the years. Obviously Mr. Bad-Taste-in-Tables certainly had not. But maybe…no, it wouldn’t do to torture herself and dwell on the possibility.

“Thanks for dinner, Cat.”

“Of course.”

(The falseness of the sentiment hung around them.)

“Well, I guess I’ll—”

“Let me get the door.”

Kara lingered briefly in the entryway, hands stuffed in her pockets. “I, um, I’m back in National City now.”

“Just because I’m no longer at CatCo every day doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten who my reporters are.”

“Right, well, I just meant…if you ever wanted to try this—dinner, or maybe brunch or something. If you wanted to try it again…”

“I suppose I could be amenable to that.”

Kara nodded. “Right. Well, I guess I’ll see you at the wedding soon enough.”

“You will. And Kara?”

Kara looked up, stopped scuffing the polished hardwood floors with the tip of her oxfords.

“It really was good to see you again.”

Kara leaned in for a hug, muscle memory propelling her forward before she could really think through the implications. She was half-ready to be rebuffed with a quiet reminder that this wasn’t who they were—not anymore—but instead Cat was meeting her halfway, arms finding their way back to Kara’s waist like it hadn’t been years since they’d been this comfortable with one another.

Kara turned to smile at Cat just as Cat leaned in to press a quick kiss to Kara’s cheek, her lips instead brushing against the corner of Kara’s mouth.

Kara’s breath left her in a rush as she stumbled back, stammering out apologies.

“It’s fine,” Cat said, waving a hand in the air. Kara didn’t miss the way a flush was creeping up her chest, though, and she could hear Cat’s heart hammering away.

“I just know that you didn’t mean—and I wasn’t trying to force—anyway, I’m gonna go. I’ll see you at the wedding. Their wedding! James and Winn’s wedding. Okay, bye.”

Kara couldn’t bear the wait for the elevator and found herself running down the stairs, forcing herself to slow to a human pace once she made it to the lower floors in case any health-conscious residents decided to get a few extra steps in.

By the time she made it outside, she’d already decided that she couldn’t face her apartment with its dusty windowsills and boxes only half-unpacked from her move back after two years spent as one of CatCo’s reporters-at-large. Before she knew it, she found herself outside Alex’s apartment building, dialing Alex’s cell. Leaning up against a wall, she listened and heard Alex’s phone buzzing against her kitchen counter.

“You okay?” Alex answered.

“Hi to you, too,” Kara shot back, though her voice was wobbly even to her own ears.

“It didn’t go well?”

“No, it’s not that. It _did_ go well. I mean, way better than expected. It’s just…there was this, I don’t know, moment or whatever. At the end. And it felt familiar for half a second. And then it was just like everything came crashing back down, and, Rao, I thought I was over it, but it was like everything breaking all over again.”

“Oh, Kara. Do you want to come over?”

Kara scuffed her foot along the pavement. “I might already be outside.”

“Get your butt up here. I’ve got some cookies that Vasquez made and that I might be willing to share, and we can watch some trashy TV and pretend that we don’t have a fitting at an hour humans shouldn’t be awake to see.”

Smiling a little, Kara let herself in and decided that no matter what, she was going to salvage tonight. Dammit, she and Cat had made progress. There was no screaming. No cursing. No crying. They’d gotten along and shared a meal and even _enjoyed_ themselves. That was huge. And it was enough. It had to be enough.

\---

After several episodes of _Say Yes to the Dress_ , Alex fell asleep on Kara’s shoulder, a half-eaten cookie still in her hand. Laughing to herself, Kara snapped a photo to send to the group chat, then carried Alex to bed, reasoning that she’d be less annoyed about the picture if she didn’t wake up with a crick in her neck and cookie crumbs embedded deep between her couch cushions.

Figuring it wouldn’t hurt to do a patrol of the city and get her mind off things, Kara grabbed the spare Supergirl suit Alex kept at her place for emergencies and took off into the night. For a while, she let herself float, wind whipping her hair around as she listened to the sounds of a city she’d never quite forgotten, no matter how long she kept away. She’d visited now and then, made appearances as Supergirl and always been there in moments of crisis, but it hadn’t been _home_ then—not with Cat traveling and Alex on a long-term undercover assignment and none of the things that used to make her feel safe still there.

She patrolled in sweeping loops of the city, flying low over the harbor and letting her fingertips skim through water that no longer smelled strongly of oil. She floated up to the top of the CatCo building, perching for a few minutes on the ledge of the balcony that was technically no longer Cat’s and trying not to dwell on all the times she’d come here seeking solace. Because she was apparently a masochist, she even drifted towards the penthouse, letting herself be lulled by the once-familiar sound of Cat’s heartbeat. It wasn’t slow enough for Cat to be sleeping. Kara wondered if she was still editing page proofs, or maybe watching TV, or just sitting awake in bed like she had on too many nights when sleep wouldn’t come.

“Does everyone get the privilege of a nightly Supergirl check-in?”

Kara dropped several feet before she managed to right herself again. “Cat?” She glanced over and found the woman curled up beneath a blanket on the balcony.

“I didn’t think I merited the extra attention these days.”

Kara ground her teeth in frustration, all of her emotions condensed into a single syllable: “ _Cat_.”

“What? Surely you don’t do that for everyone,” Cat taunted, peering around at the city sprawled out in front of her.

“You’ve been drinking.”

“Barely. And you’re deflecting.”

Kara wanted to fight her on it, but the edges of Cat’s words were too crisp for it to be a lie.

“Why are you here, Supergirl?”

Kara shrugged. “It was a mistake. Muscle memory, that’s all.”

“Then go on.” Cat flicked her fingers through the air. “Shoo.”

Kara practically growled as she pivoted in the air, facing Cat head on. “You don’t get to act like this! You’re the one who decided we couldn’t work. You’re the one who wouldn’t fight for us.”

“Oh, excuse me,” Cat practically snarled, standing up and throwing the blanket back down to the couch. “I don’t think the woman who snuck into the apartment we were sharing in the middle of a board meeting to move out without another word gets to talk.”

“You’d broken up with me!” Kara practically yelled, floating closer to avoid waking the neighbors.

“And you”—Cat’s finger hit Kara square in the chest—“didn’t even try to fight for us.”

“You told me there was nothing worth fighting for.”

Kara watched Cat’s face flash with indignation, anger flaring hot and fierce, but all too soon—far sooner than it used to—it was giving way to a kind of pained sorrow. “You deserved better. You still do. And you said as much yourself.”

Memories Kara had been trying to repress flooded back, leaving her reeling.

_Cat standing alone in the middle of the kitchen, Vera Wang dress hugging her curves and a glass of whiskey clutched in her hands—another night where she’d found herself alone as Kara sent apology texts about some DEO emergency (another threat that, in retrospect, had never quite materialized)._

_An offhand comment in some third-rate tabloid suggesting that Kara had slept her way to her first Pulitzer that Kara had found Cat reading on too many sleepless nights._

_Another fight. Another missed commitment. Another failed conversation._

_Their last night together, Cat curled around Kara in bed, gently stroking hair back from Kara’s face and whispering, tears in her voice, “This won’t work.”_

_The fight that had followed. Flashes of Kara wrapped in the sheet, tears glimmering in her eyes. The shuddering, “I deserve better than this,” that had spelled the beginning of the end, as Cat heard little more than, “I deserve better than you”—and that had been what she always suspected, hadn’t it? What she’d always thought she’d known?_

_Cat watching as Kara threw on sweatpants, stuffed bare feet into boots, stormed out of the apartment without ever turning back. Not that Cat saw the way Kara’s shoulders crumpled when she was alone in the elevator, tears falling as she stepped out into the cool night air. She missed the way Kara barely made it a block before she practically collapsed down onto a bus stop bench, every ounce of fight and energy drained from her. She wasn’t there when Alex pulled up ten minutes later, fire in her eyes and a protective arm slung around Kara’s shoulders as she whispered promises and reassurances that Kara barely heard herself._

“You’d think as an award-winning journalist you’d have learned to listen better by now,” Kara shot back. Sharp words all hollowed out.

She sank down to the other chair, letting out a huff of air as she tucked her feet beneath her.

“You know how I feel about your boots on the furniture,” Cat grumbled, though she lowered herself back down to the couch as well.

“It’s been years, Cat. I’ve traveled your world. I’ve proven myself to those people whose opinions you suddenly decided mattered. Are you really gonna stand here and still act like you know what I want?”

“I never presumed to discount what you _wanted_ , Kara.”

“Fine, then whatever it is you seem to think I deserve. Was two-and-a-half years alone really what I deserved?”

Kara didn’t miss the flash of guilt in Cat’s eyes. “It wasn’t—I never meant for that to be what happened.”

“Well it was.”

“I’m sorry.”

Any retort died in Kara’s throat. She blinked. “Did you know that’s the first time you’ve said that?”

Cat rolled her eyes. “It is not.”

“Not ever,” Kara huffed. “But about this fight. About the breakup.”

“Not everything was—”

“I know.” Kara held a hand up. “There are things… It takes two people to end a relationship. I spent a long time blaming you, but I know I’m not blameless either.”

Cat nodded.

For a long while, they sat in silence, listening to the sounds of the city, the quiet hum of late-night traffic, the occasional airplane soaring through the sky, the yapping of the shih tzu two floors down that had never quite mastered “Quiet.”

Kara finally broke the lull in the conversation, asking, “Who gave you the table?”

“Robert.” Cat rolled her eyes. “He spent two months wooing me with increasingly expensive, increasingly absurd gifts, then told me I’d led him on when I ended things after a single disastrous date that I had, rather magnanimously I might add, agreed to.”

Kara’s lips curled in distaste. “He didn’t deserve even that.”

Cat hummed. “No. No, he did not. But Carter had just left for Williams, and I had promised him that I was back in National City to stay.” A shrug of her shoulders. “As it turned out, being well and truly alone for the first time in decades was hard.” A beat. “And you?”

“Me?”

“Anyone…gifting you tables?”

Kara snorted. “No tables. There were people. None who lasted.”

Silence descended once more.

“I missed you,” Kara finally admitted. “Even when I was angry and lonely. There were so many nights I wanted to call you, talk to you, ask for your advice.”

Cat took a deep breath, let out a shuddering exhale. “I did not do particularly well after you left.” Another pause. “Carter thought I should make some grand romantic gesture, fix everything.”

“Instead you left,” Kara bit out.

Cat didn’t bother to hide the wince. “We were opening a new branch. It was a chance for Carter to study abroad. They needed the leadership. I needed the space.”

“And what about me? What if I needed you?”

“Please.” Cat glared. “You had your paperwork in for the at-large position when I was still on the plane.”

“You left! What was I supposed to do? Sit around in my dusty old apartment and pine after the woman who’d told me no part of the relationship we’d worked at for half a year was worth salvaging? Worth fighting for?”

“My office chair wasn’t even cold by the time you were getting ready to run. Just like the apartment—you wait until the second I’m not around to disappear for good.”

“You weren’t there!” Kara’s heart thundered in her chest, blood pounding in her ears. She could feel the wicker of the chair arms splintering beneath her grip, her fingers sinking in through the rushing. She forced herself to stand instead, pacing back and forth along the balcony. “You didn’t even come back for months.”

“Because I had nothing to come back to!” Cat snapped. She was up and off the couch in an instant, stopping Kara in her tracks and forcing her back up against the sliding glass door. “Do you know what it’s like living here? Being able to see traces of you everywhere I look? Knowing how full of life this goddam empty shell of a home used to be?”

“Cat.” Kara’s voice cracked and softened as she wrapped her arms around Cat, trying to tuck Cat into her chest the way she once had on bad days.

Cat squirmed out of Kara’s hug. “No! I don’t—I can’t have this.”

“I’m not—”

“You’ll be gone again soon enough.” Cat blinked away tears. “I learned to be fine alone once. Don’t make me do it again.”

“Cat. Cat, look at me.” Kara held Cat’s gaze. “I’m not going anywhere. Not this time.” She trailed a finger down Cat’s jawline, her touch featherlight.

“Don’t. Don’t treat me like I’m some fragile thing.”

Kara was struck with the memory of those exact words being huffed out in a much different context and couldn’t quite help the pulse of want that ran through her.

Of course, Cat—regardless of whether or not she listened well—had always had a keen eye for detail. She stepped further into Kara’s space, inching forward until Kara’s back was pressed firmly against the cool glass of the door. “Since I’m not supposed to presume what it is you want, Supergirl, why don’t you tell me what you thought you might achieve flying by my bedroom in the middle of the night?”

The fingers still resting on Cat’s jaw twitched as Kara’s gaze dropped to Cat’s mouth. “I already told you I missed you.”

“And I already told you not to be gentle.”

In a moment, Kara had reversed their positions, hiking one of Cat’s legs up and around her hips as she pressed Cat back against the door.

“This is what you want?”

Cat answered with a kiss that was nothing like the first ones they’d once shared. It was all firm touches with the tug of sharp teeth on lower lips and the bite of nails felt even through layers of clothing.

It was good. Unfamiliar when the feel of Cat’s skin and the smell of her fading perfume and the taste of her mouth were still all too familiar.

Kara had, over the months they spent together, learned not to treat Cat like some infinitely fragile, breakable thing. Had learned the value in the sting of a bite followed by a soothing lave of the tongue. A tenderness with sharp edges.

This, though, it was all edges, two bodies colliding, their pleasure a happy surprise.

Cat’s hips rolled into Kara’s as Kara’s mouth nipped and kissed along her jaw, finding that little spot behind her ear that drew a needy whimper from somewhere deep inside of her.

“Inside, Supergirl,” Cat ordered, her voice a little too breathy for it to be taken as a command. “We’re not giving the neighbors a show.”

Kara lifted Cat into her arms as they stumbled indoors, everything going hazy as Cat kissed up and down her throat, sucking hard enough to leave purpling bruises on anyone else.

She hesitated at the edge of the bed. The bed that had been _theirs_ —only officially for the last few weeks, but shared for so many nights before then that it could never be thought of as anything else. She couldn’t even bring herself to look properly at it, let alone lie down on it.

Of course, Kara knew well enough that Cat could have purchased a new mattress. Traded out the old sheets and duvet for new ones. Even replaced the bedframe with a perfect replica not tainted by their memories.

None of that mattered. Not when the whole room felt suffused with traces of better times—bright, sunlit mornings, coffee and the crossword puzzle, smooth expanses of soft skin—all poisoned by their last night there.

The sting of Cat’s nails against Kara’s scalp wrenched her back into the moment.

“Not here.”

Cat didn’t say a word as Kara pivoted and carried Cat through the doorway, down the hall, away from all those private parts of the apartment that still felt like they should be home.

Kissing Cat hard, Kara pushed her back down onto the hideous table as her hands began the work of undoing the small buttons of Cat’s thin silk blouse.

As Kara’s mouth descended, following the path of newly unveiled skin, Cat scoffed. “Really? Here?”

Kara raked her nails hard down Cat’s stomach, drawing a keening whimper from her as she clutched at the table’s edges.

“A bit petty.”

“One. To. Talk.” Kara bit out, shrugging out of the supersuit and letting her tongue trail along Cat’s waistband.

“Less talking,” Cat growled, dragging Kara back up and drawing her into a bruising kiss. She tangled her fingers with Kara’s drawing her hand down between her legs, hips rolling into even the faint touch.

“Yeah?”

Cat popped the button on her jeans, undoing the zipper and shimmying them down as best she could.

Kara let herself float up a few inches, taking in the sight of Cat sprawled beneath her, hair fanned out, chest heaving, eyes dark with want. It was the best the table had ever looked.

An impatient noise and the quick movement of Cat’s hand sneaking between her own legs, followed by a soft sigh, was enough to pull Kara back into the moment.

“Mine.” She practically ripped Cat’s jeans off, tossing them to the side as she slipped one, then two fingers inside of her. If she’d thought the flight by Cat’s balcony had felt like muscle memory, well, it didn’t even hold a candle to how easily her body sank back into the rhythms she’d once learned over long nights and quiet mornings.

And Cat—Cat cried out and clenched around Kara’s fingers and clutched the table like a lifeline. She dug her heels into Kara’s ass and begged for more, for faster, for harder. But she didn’t come.

Kara could see the frustration etched in her features, could remember nights where she’d once been so slow, so gentle, coaxing pleasure from Cat when it felt impossible, felt like her own body was too tense, too wound up, too caught in the stress of the thousand-and-one items still left on her to-do list.

“Just—just closer. Closer. Please,” Cat pleaded, tears prickling at the corners of her eyes. She dragged Kara down, closer and closer until she was pinning Cat beneath her weight, mouthing at Cat’s neck, fingers curling inside of her.

And then, finally, with Cat’s arms and legs wrapped around her, pulling her impossibly closer, Kara felt Cat’s back bow, her muscles locking and breath hitching for a long moment before she came with a sobbing cry.

“Cat,” Kara whispered, swiping at the tears with her free hand.

“Don’t.”

“I—”

“Up here.” Impatient as ever, Cat pulled at Kara’s hips until she got the hint. And then Cat’s mouth was on her, and all Kara could do was hold on and try not to break Cat’s nose.

It might have been embarrassing, how quickly Cat got her there, but there was no fighting it, not when she’d spent two years dreaming about Cat, not when she felt less in control of herself than she had in ages.

She was fairly certain she blacked out at some point, and by the time she came back to, it was to the sight of an amused-looking Cat stroking her hair and surveying the charred remnants of Robert’s table. Apparently weighing a thousand pounds wasn’t much of a defense against heat vision and super strength. And oh, she hadn’t lost control like that since the first time Cat went down on her. But bedframes, like tables, were replaceable, and the important thing was that Cat was just as unscathed now as she had been then.

“Well that’s one way to get rid of it.”

Kara couldn’t help the half-hysterical laugh that burst from her.

“I trust you’ll dispose of the”—Cat’s gaze swept across the half of the table that now lay in ruins—“kindling?”

“Yeah, I, uh, I can fly those down to the dumpsters.”

Cat let out a satisfied little hum and patted Kara’s hip. “Good.”

As the room sank back into silence, Kara felt like she couldn’t get enough oxygen. “I, uh, I can—I can get going.”

Cat’s eyes went cold as the lines around her mouth tightened. “You’ve always been good about finding your way out.” She pulled her blouse tight around herself as she stood, carefully extricating herself from Kara’s arms.

“Cat! Cat, wait. What—I don’t know what’s… What do you want from me?”

“Nothing.” Cat padded across the room, calling from the hallway, “I trust you can see yourself out. And take the table with you.”

As Cat lingered, Kara forced herself to say something—anything—to keep the night from ending there. “I, uh, I haven’t unpacked yet.” She swallowed heavily, trying to figure out what she was even doing, though the words kept pouring out of her. “Maybe we could, I don’t know, watch something.”

Cat eyed her warily. “Why?”

Kara shrugged. “I’ve gotta be up soon enough for the fitting, and it’s not like I can sleep. Can you?”

The silence was answer enough. After a few moments, Cat sighed. “Find something to my tastes. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

In those minutes, Kara put her suit back on and flew the bits of charred wood down to the garbage, then clicked through until she found some old Katharine Hepburn movie playing. It was halfway over, but she knew Cat had them all practically memorized anyway.

As she got herself settled in the far corner of the couch, Cat emerged, tossing a small bundle of clothes at her. “Your suit is rather dirty for the couch.”

Kara rolled her eyes, but took the clothes down to the guest bathroom. It wasn’t worth the fight.

It wasn’t until she had already stripped down to nothing and was halfway into the shirt that she realized it was hers. A ratty old NCU Pride t-shirt that must have been in the wash hamper when she and Alex had packed the rest of her things and fled the apartment. The sweatpants were hers, too—a pair Cat had stolen on many a cool evening.

She was out of the bathroom and back in the living room in an instant. “My—you kept them?”

Cat’s throat bobbed as she swallowed. “If you’re that concerned, there are a few more of your things in my bedroom that I suppose you can take home.”

“You _kept_ them. I—I’m still here.” Cat’s brow furrowed. “These aren’t a thousand pounds. You could have thrown them out at any point.” Kara couldn’t stop the tears now streaming down her face. “Can I…I want to see… Where’s the rest?”

A few moments later, Kara found herself face-to-face with a drawer’s worth of clothes—old t-shirts and sweatpants, a grungy old sports bra, the novelty Supergirl onesie Winn had bought her as a joke. But it wasn’t just that. There were traces of her _everywhere_. A photo of her and Carter on Cat’s bureau. A landscape of National City she’d painted from Cat’s balcony hanging above the bed. The necklace she’d purchased Cat for their six-month anniversary, just a few short days before everything had fallen apart, still hanging with her other jewelry.

Wide-eyed, Kara turned back to Cat. “You didn’t… I…I mattered.”

“Of course you matter, Kara.”

Two steps were enough to bring her to Cat. Gently—so, so gently—she cupped Cat’s jaw in her hand, kissed her cheeks, her forehead, the tip of her nose, the corner of her mouth.

“Kara,” Cat whispered.

“It’s late.” Kara found Cat’s hand with one of her own, lacing their fingers together. “Watch a movie with me. Maybe we’ll manage a couple of hours of sleep between us. Tomorrow… Tomorrow we’ll talk.”

Cat paused, her mouth opening, then closing. “Alright.”

“But Cat?”

“Hmm?”

“Don’t bring a plus one to the wedding. Please.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on Twitter and Tumblr @sapphicscholar


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